


Buttlerfly Cry (Gizoogle Edition)

by GilbertsLeftArm



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Crack, Exactly what you think it is, Gizoogle, It's a crack version of BC, M/M, literally my offering for not being able to update right now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 10:09:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2146779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GilbertsLeftArm/pseuds/GilbertsLeftArm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aoba had known, he’d known dat da thug was goin ta show Koujaku fo'sho. Tae wasn’t at home, n' dis playa was tha one tha pimpin' muthafucka trusted straight afta her n' shit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sharin this, dis thang… was suttin' dat schmoooove muthafucka had been thankin on some long time fo' realz. And now dat da thug was standin there, up in Koujaku’s bathroom wit blood all over his cold-ass towels n' not a god damn thang ta keep his head physically attached ta his body… he needed ta brang his dirty ass ta do dat shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Buttlerfly Cry (Gizoogle Edition)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Butterfly Cry](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1948455) by [GilbertsLeftArm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GilbertsLeftArm/pseuds/GilbertsLeftArm). 



> I have no words for this.
> 
> http://www.gizoogle.net/textilizer.php
> 
> Let me know your favourite part guys omg

_"Is you shizzle you don’t wanna come?"_  
  
  
  
 _"I’m sure."_  
  


* * *

  
   
  
Da sound of tha doorbell was familiar yo. Dude heard it rang all up in tha house, tha notes a lil faded from a bustin-out battery yo, but dat shiznit was a simple tune dat his schmoooove ass could rely on stayin tha same.  
  
   
  
Dude ran his cold-ass tongue over his cold-ass teeth n' buried his handz further tha fuck into his thugged-out lil' pockets yo. His feet creaked on tha wooden floorin as da perved-out muthafucka shifted his weight ta his other leg a lil, ears strainin ta hear footsteps comin ta tha door.  
  
   
  
Dude waited all dem mo' minutes; nothing. No one was in, then. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. A bust a funky-ass big-ass fart escaped his body n' it made his ass shiver n' shit. Breathang was a pain.  
  
   
  
"Aoba?" dat schmoooove muthafucka heard a voice call, n' da perved-out muthafucka spun round again, havin been just bout locked n loaded ta muthafuckin bounce.  
  
   
  
There da thug was - Koujaku, _finally, give props ta goodness_ , a lil breathless wit one arm against tha door n' tha other holdin a pair of scissors yo. Dude looked firmly at his ass wit a expression dat was quickly floodin ta one full of relief. There was bags under his wild lil' fuckin eyes, Aoba noticed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude looked awful.  
  
   
  
But not as wack as his muthafuckin ass.  
  
   
  
"Yo ass know," Aoba almost forgot he needed ta put a lil mo' force tha fuck into his fuckin lyrics now, "it’s not safe ta run wit scissors."  
  
   
  
A lil' small-ass smile managed ta spread across his wild lil' grill as Koujaku put tha blades down n' stepped out, no Nikes on, onto tha street yo. His arms wrapped firmly round Aoba n' tha blue-haired playa tried his dopest ta remove his handz from his thugged-out lil' pockets n' return tha embrace.  
  
   
  
"We’ve all been worried sick," Koujaku practically whispered. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude paused, n' then placed his handz solidly on Aoba’s shoulders, a gangbangin' firm look up in his wild lil' fuckin eyes as da perved-out muthafucka stared right at his muthafuckin ass. "Aoba, where have you been, biatch? You’ve been gone fo' three months wit not even a note."  
  
   
  
"I know," Aoba jerked a lil. Koujaku’s lyrics stung even mo' than tha pimpin' muthafucka thought they would, "I just… I don’t know. I don’t know."  
  
   
  
Koujaku breathed up heavily n' ran his wild lil' fingers all up in his hair. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Suddenly, he flinched n' his wild lil' fuckin eyes blasted ta tha sky before settlin back on tha shorter playa up in front of his muthafuckin ass.  
  
   
  
"It’s startin ta rain," da perved-out muthafucka holla'd, his voice mo' than a lil solemn, "come inside, ok?"  
  
   
  
"Ok." Aoba’s throat was beginnin ta ache; of course drizzle was coming.  
  
"This drizzle is ghon be welcome, I think," Koujaku holla'd as his schmoooove ass closed tha front door, "it hasn’t drizzled fo' a phat few weeks. Wherever you went, Aoba, you’ve managed ta miss da most thugged-out shitty of tha summer…" tha pimpin' muthafucka trailed off; Aoba was slowly removin his shoes yo, but da thug was bustin it up in such a inconvenient fashizzle tha olda was at a loss fo' what tha fuck ta do yo. Dude had his back straight n' head stubbornly upright on his shoulders, lookin down wit just his wild lil' fuckin eyes. Well shiiiit, it resulted up in his ass not seein much, n' he fumbled wit tha zip on tha side much mo' than necessary.  
  
   
  
"Aoba-" Koujaku tried.  
  
   
  
"I’m fine," Aoba replied hastily, settin his Nikes by tha wall.  
  
   
  
"Do you want suttin' ta eat?" tha black-haired playa tilted his head ta one side slightly up in question.  
  
   
  
"...No props."  
  
   
  
"Somethang ta drink?"  
  
   
  
Aoba shuddered, "...no."  
  
   
  
"...Do you wanna rap bout it?"  
  
   
  
"It?"  
  
   
  
"What happened," Koujaku took a step closer, "where you went, what tha fuck you did, why you didn’t say anything."  
  
   
  
Aoba slipped some afro behind his wild lil' fuckin ear, "...maybe later."  
  
   
  
There was another period of silence as Koujaku looked round tha hall at not a god damn thang up in particular yo. Dude could feel tha shorter’s eyes on him, waiting, anticipatin fo' something. What did da thug want, biatch? What did dat schmoooove muthafucka _his_ dirty ass want?  
  
   
  
Da hairdresser sighed again, "why don’t you go n' freshen up in tha bathroom, biatch? I’ve just gots ta finish a thang off, you can sit up in mah livin room when you’re done, n' I’ll be there soon."  
  
   
  
".. fo' realz. Alright. Nuff props, Koujaku."  
  
   
  
"Anytime, Aoba. Yo ass know dis shit."  
  
   
  
"Yeah."  
  
   
  
Koujaku peeped his ass trudge past, his wild lil' freakadelic gaze steadily set on tha now retreatin figure.  
  
"Is you not goin ta take off yo' scarf?" his schmoooove ass called afta him, "it’s boiling."

  
   
  
Aoba paused fo' just a straight-up short second yo, but there was no reply as tha pimpin' muthafucka turned down tha hallway.  
  
 

* * *

  
  
_"Is you havin second thoughts bout this?"_  
  
  
  
 _"Mo' than just second… third thoughts, fourth…"_  
  
  
  
 _"What is you so worried about, biatch? They’re yo' crew, yo' playas, they’re not goin ta do anythang ta yo thugged-out ass."_  
  
  
  
 _"I git that, Mink, I just..."_  
  
  
  
 _"You’re just?"_  
  
  
  
 _"Scared."_  
  
  
  
 _"I know. I’m sorry bout dat bullshit. It’s mah fault; you can blame every last muthafuckin thang on mah dirty ass. I’ve holla'd dis before."_  
  
  
  
 _"..."_  
  
  
  
 _"Aoba?"_  
  
  
  
 _"I’ll go tomorrow. Maybe tha next day… can you tie dis again?"_  
  
 

* * *

  
   
  
Aoba had his wild lil' fuckin eyes firmly shut as he faced tha mirror yo. His fists was clenched tightly by his sides n' da perved-out muthafucka stood still fo' a moment, menstrually preparin his dirty ass yo. Dude swallowed yo, but dat shiznit was awkward n' difficult; a cold-ass lil constant reminder of how tha fuck da thug was forced ta live tha rest of his wild lil' freakadelic game yo. However long dat was, da ruffneck didn’t know.  
  
   
  
Slowly, a tremblin hand was raised, n' da perved-out muthafucka set it gently on his scarf, His golden-brown eyes looked straight back at theyselves, n' he forced his dirty ass not ta falter as he gave tha material a tug, unwindin it from round his neck.  
  
   
  
And there it was.  
  
   
  
His head had almost come off - his wild lil' freakadelic guess was right; almost all tha stitches round his neck had become straight-up loose, just as dat schmoooove muthafucka had felt yo. Dude was dirty ta have juiced it up dis far without havin ta physically hold it up. Da skin round dat shiznit was not bleedin yo, but instead red raw wit its usual inflammation. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Well shiiiit, it wasn’t sore, despite its fucked up appearance.  
  
   
  
"I need ta straight-up redo this…" he muttered ta his dirty ass, most of tha sound escapin as a whistle all up in tha gap up in his neck.  
  
   
  
Little by lil, dat schmoooove muthafucka helped tha thread up all up in his skin, eventually movin one hand ta git a sturdy grip on one side of his head. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Bustin dis now wit one arm was awkward - probably Mink was there ta help his ass - but he’d gotta deal wit dat shit.  
  
   
  
Da feelin of bein able ta control yo' body without yo' head bein attached ta dat shiznit was suttin' dat Aoba thought da thug would never be able ta describe, n' dat shiznit was suttin' da thug would never straight-up gots nuff props fo'to be thinkin bout yo. Dude was made ta git used ta it, n' da ruffneck done did. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! No more.  
  
   
  
Dude slowly lifted it up, blinkin fo' a moment ta git used ta tha freer point of view. Well shiiiit, it only occurred ta his ass dem dat dat schmoooove muthafucka had nowhere ta straight-up put his head down, n' a temporary feelin of panic washed over his ass until da perved-out muthafucka spotted a thugged-out dry towel hangin over tha bath. Tuckin his head under his fuckin left arm, he reached fo' it n' spread it over tha counter by tha sink yo. Dude felt a lil' small-ass trickle of blood when da perved-out muthafucka settled his head amongst tha material; he must have caught it on something.  
  
   
  
Right now, Aoba was still breathang fo' realz. Again, da ruffneck did not know how tha fuck yo, but da thug was yo. His lungs was still pullin up in air from tha hole where his head should be - dat shiznit was just his windpipe n' oesophagus dat had not closed up n' healed over.  
  
   
  
Dude debated fo' a short while whether ta have his head facin tha mirror or his body, n' eventually settled wit tha latter n' shiznit yo. Dude needed ta wash round his neck n' make shizzle da ruffneck didn’t catch any sort of infection. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So far, dat hadn’t happened, n' da ruffneck didn’t want it to.  
  
   
  
Aoba pulled his jacket off n' dropped it ta tha floor, then hit dat shiznit on gettin off his cold-ass t-shirt yo. His body was pale, still, as pale as dat shiznit was tha dizzle his head was separated from dat shit.  
  
   
  
Leanin forward, da thug washed his handz thoroughly n' paused fo' a moment again, drummin his wild lil' fingers on tha edge of tha sink as tha pimpin' muthafucka thought of tha the dopest way ta go bout cleanin yo. Dude didn’t straight-up wanna use much of Koujaku’s thangs…  
  
   
  
Dude decided on just toilet roll n' gin n juice up in tha end, n' strutted over ta tha side of tha toilet ta grab some.  
  
   
  
That was when dat biiiiatch strutted in.  
  
   
  
A lil' biatch, one of mah thugs Aoba had never peeped before, was standin up in tha now open doorway. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch was frozen on tha spot, eyes locked on his head n' grill hung open up in a silent scream dat _did not take long ta become a real one_. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch slammed tha door n' dat was probably goin ta be tha last he eva saw of her yo, but dat didn’t mean tha noise she just made would go unnoticed.  
  
   
  
Dude rushed his body back ta tha counter, tha poundin sound of Koujaku’s footsteps gettin louder wit each passin second. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! There was no time fo' anything; Aoba put his head on his neck n' held it there wit his hand, rockin tha other ta wrap tha scarf round tha gap as tightly as possible without stranglin his dirty ass.  
  
   
  
Da door burst open again n' again n' again n' Aoba took a instinctizzle step back, hittin tha sink yo. His head lurched up in his hand n' da thug winced, hopin desperately dat Koujaku hadn’t noticed.

* * *

  
  
  
  
_"Mink…"_   
  
  
  
_"...Hmmm?"_   
  
  
  
_"I can’t… I can’t chill like all dis bullshit."_   
  
  
  
_"...Where do you want yo' head?"_   
  
  
  
_"...Back on mah shoulders."_   
  
  
  
_"Yo ass know that’s not happening, Aoba."_   
  
  
  
_"..."_   
  
  
  
_"...We could sew it back on."_   
  
  
  
_"Would dat work?"_   
  
  
_"I don’t know; we could try."_   
  


**Author's Note:**

> www.dr-jiggypepper.tumblr.com
> 
> It would be pimped out if you could follow me biaaatch! Feel free ta bust asks n' shit.


End file.
